


Fix Me Up

by J9nine



Series: Time After Time [2]
Category: South Park
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Adoption, Angst, Car Accidents, College, Daddy Issues, Drug Addiction, Flashbacks, M/M, Married Couple, Original Character Death(s), Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-27 04:02:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13240008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J9nine/pseuds/J9nine
Summary: While interviewing to adopt a child, Craig and Kenny recount the story of how they got together. But they may have to leave out some of the details.Cross posted to ff.net





	1. Here's to the Night

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a companion to Fall Back, my Style fic, but it stands on its own. You do not need to read Fall Back in order for this story to make sense. In fact, most of the characters from Fall Back will make very little appearance in this fic. Don't expect to see any Style here. That being said, this story will contain spoilers for Fall Back, and vice versa.
> 
> I also feel the need to warn you that large portions of this story will follow Kenny and Craig separately, and there will be full chapters with no interaction between the two characters whatsoever. I hope you're willing to give it a chance anyways.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's to the nights we felt alive  
> Here's to the tears you knew you'd cry  
> Here's to goodbye, tomorrow's gonna come too soon
> 
> -Eve 6, 2001

**May 2016**

“You have a lovely home.”

The girl couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old, with kinky golden-brown curls and soft brown skin, a handful of freckles scattered across her face.  She was interesting to look at.  Her baby would probably be beautiful, which was a good thing, Kenny thought, provided she liked them.  The last four mothers they’d interviewed with hadn’t liked them.

“Thank you, um…”

“Amber,” the girl said.

“Right.  Sorry.”

Craig walked into the room with a glass of water and placed it on the coffee table in front of Amber.  “Anything else I can get you?” he asked.

“No.  Thank you.”

There was a moment of awkward silence.  Kenny wiped his hands on his slacks.  It was usually his job to fill the silence, because Craig was so quiet, but his nerves were getting the better of him.  Kenny was the outgoing one, but Craig was one who could stay calm in high-pressure situations.

Her posture exuded poise in a way that was not typical of a teenager.  She sat straight up on the love seat, hands folded primly on her lap in front of her perfectly round belly.  Kenny took some comfort in the feeling that she was trying as hard to make a good first impression as they were.

“So what do you two do?” she asked finally.

“I’m a third grade teacher,” Kenny answered.  “And Craig is a manager of a…sales team.”

Craig was a collections manager, but people tended not to like debt collectors, and they needed Amber to like them.

“A teacher?  So you have a lot of experience with kids.”

“We both do,” Craig cut in.  “We have lots of friends with kids.”

“We’re godfathers to our former neighbors’ daughter,” Kenny added.  “Craig even helped one of our friends through her labor.”

“Wow.  And how long have you been trying to adopt?”

“Years.”  Kenny pushed his hair out of his face.  He wished he’d gotten a haircut before this interview.  “It’s been hard for us.”

“Because you’re a same-sex couple?”

Kenny swallowed.  “Yeah.”

It wasn’t the whole truth.  Craig’s history of drug addiction also factored in heavily.

“So how did you two meet?”

“We went to school together,” Craig said.  “K through twelve.”

Amber’s eyes brightened.  “High school sweethearts?” she gushed.

“Not exactly,” Craig replied.  “We weren’t really friends in high school, and then Ken went off to college and I…didn’t.”

“Right.  And then years later we were set up on a blind date, and, well, we already knew each other.”

Amber grinned.  “What a great story to tell your kids someday.”  She rubbed her belly.  “That’s what I want, before I’m ready to be a mom for real.  A really great story to tell them about how I met their dad.  You know?”

“Right,” Kenny said, exchanging worried glances with Craig.  “That’s what we have.  A really great story for the kids.”

 

**May 2001**

“God, is she drunk already?” Cartman groaned, holding his hands out to the side awkwardly to protect his snacks as Bebe wrapped him in an unwelcome hug.

“I’m gonna miss you when I leave, Cartman,” Bebe replied, her voice muffled against his shirt.

“Yeah, she’s drunk,” Kenny replied, having already received his drunken hug from Bebe.

Cartman winced, patting her back gingerly in a “there, there” motion with his bag of Funyuns.

“Have you guys seen Wendy?” he asked.

“I don’t think she’s gotten here yet,” Kyle replied.

“Where’s Stan?” Cartman asked, looking at Kenny.  Questions about Stan were always directed at Kenny.

His stomach flipped.  “Probably at home packing,” he replied, attempting to sound nonchalant.  “He leaves for California in a week.”

“That’s so sad,” Bebe said, her voice trembling as she released Cartman.

“Not really,” Kyle said, his face hard.  “Let’s be honest, guys, Stan hasn’t really been around a whole lot this year.  He could leave for California _tonight_ , and I don’t think a single person would notice.”

Bebe gave Kyle a sympathetic smile, reaching for his hand in a comforting gesture.

Kenny stepped back quietly, suddenly feeling out of place in the group.  He couldn’t help but feel like their friends blamed him for Kyle and Stan’s falling out.  It made sense for them to blame him, seeing as how Stan had offered no explanation as to his sudden distance from the rest of the group and sudden closeness to Kenny.  And as hard as Kenny had tried to stay close to the rest of the group despite all this, he’d always felt pressured to take a side.

For what it was worth, Kenny would miss Stan when he left.  He had a feeling Kyle would too, even though he was too stubborn to ever admit it.

He ducked into the crowd of graduates, backing into one of his classmates and sending them tumbling to the floor.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he said, turning around to see who he’d crashed into.

“Hey!” Butters said, looking dazed.  “I was looking for you!”

Kenny laughed, reaching down to help him up.  “You were?”

“Yeah,” Butters said, brushing off his jeans as he stood.  “I heard you got into Wayne State.”

“Yeah man, I got a scholarship.”

“That’s where I’m going!”

“No way?” Kenny felt a flood of relief at the idea of a familiar face at college.  He wasn’t the greatest at making connections.  “You driving there?  We could road trip together.  If you’re cool with that.  I’m packing pretty light.”

“Yeah man, let’s do it,” Butters agreed.  “Where’s Stan?  I haven’t seen him all night.”

Kenny’s smile faltered.  “I don’t think he’s coming tonight.”

“That’s too bad,” Butters said, looking over Kenny’s shoulder.  “I’m gonna go say hi to Nichole, but we should hang out this summer.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Kenny agreed, as Butters wandered off.

Kenny sipped his drink, looking around the room awkwardly.  He knew he’d gotten too close to Stan over the course of their senior year, because now without him there as a crutch, he didn’t know who to talk to.  He spotted Wendy walking into the room and perked up.

“Hey, Wends,” he greeted, walking towards her.

“Kenny!” she replied warmly, accepting a hug from him.

“Where have you been?  Everyone’s looking for you.”

Wendy licked her lips nervously.  “I just saw Stan.”

“He’s here?” Kenny said, glancing around the crowded room. “I didn’t think he was coming out.”

“He’s not.  He’s leaving for LA tonight.”

Kenny shook his head.  “No, he doesn’t leave until next week.”

“No, I uh.”  Wendy tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.  “I just dropped him off at the train station.”

The breath left Kenny’s lungs.  “But he didn’t tell me.”  His head spun.

“I know.  I’m sorry.”

“He didn’t say goodbye.”

* * *

 

“Don’t talk to me.  I’m mad at you.”

Craig shrugged.  He hadn’t planned on saying anything anyways.

“Why is Clyde mad at you?” Token asked.

“Yeah, Craig, tell him what you did,” Clyde snapped.  Then, before Craig could open his mouth, “He joined the Marines.”

Token’s eyes widened.  “You?”

Craig rolled his eyes.  “I met with a recruiter last weekend.  But I’ll still be here all summer.  I have to get in shape for basic training.”

Clyde huffed.

“College isn’t for me.  You know I hate school,” Craig defended himself.  “And I can’t stay at home.  I’m lucky my dad didn’t kick me out the day I turned eighteen.”

“You could have stayed with me.”

Craig shook his head.  “I need some air,” he said, turning around and shoving his way through the crowd.

He opened the sliding glass door of the balcony and stepped through the vertical blinds.  They rattled behind him as he leaned against the railing, fishing a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his sweatshirt.

He had a cigarette lit and was taking the first drag before he realized he wasn’t alone.  He jumped when he noticed someone seated beside him in a plastic lawn chair.

“Hey,” Kenny greeted him softly.

Craig silently offered a drag of his cigarette, but Kenny shook his head.

“Heard you were going to college,” Craig said.  He was terrible at small talk.

“Yeah.  You?”

Craig shook his head.  “Basic training in September.”

“Army?”

“Marines.”

“My brother’s in the army.  I never see him.”

Craig nodded.  “That’s the idea.  Get out of this town and never come back.”  He didn’t mean it.  He would probably come back.  South Park was his home.  But acting cold an indifferent was easier than admitting he would be sad to go.

Kenny met Craig’s eyes, searching them in the dim light of the balcony.  Craig wasn’t sure what he was looking for.  He never thought his eyes were much to look at.  They were just brown.  Kenny’s were blue, and piercing even in the faint light.  They were nice.

“What?” Craig asked nervously, grinding out his cigarette on the railing.

“Have you ever had your dick sucked by a dude on your friend’s balcony?”

 

**June 2001**

“I’ve been hooking up with Kenny.”

“What?” Token said, dropping his end of the coffee table on the floor of Clyde’s new apartment.

“Careful with the furniture!” Clyde exclaimed, walking in behind them with a heavy box.

“Craig’s hooking up with Kenny,” Token replied.

“What?”

Craig rolled his eyes, setting down his end of the coffee table.  “It’s not a big deal.”

Clyde placed his box on the floor.  “Shouldn’t it be?”

“It’s just something to do.”

“How did he even know you were gay?” Clyde asked, stepping over his box and taking a seat on it.  “Was it the lisp?”

“Shut up.”

Craig had spent years in speech therapy trying to get rid of his lisp.  Clyde knew he was self-conscious about it.  It was the reason he barely spoke.  He knew he gave off a hard, stoic vibe, but the truth was that Craig was insecure, and as a result, painfully shy.  It made it difficult for him to make meaningful connections with people, and with Clyde starting a new job and moving into this Denver apartment, and Token going off to Seattle for college in the fall, graduation had only left Craig with an impending feeling of loneliness.

He knew Kenny would be leaving in the fall as well, but somehow he was okay with it.  It just felt _nice_ to be wanted by someone, even if it was only temporary.  He even liked that they didn’t know each other that well.  He didn’t feel the need to reveal too much of himself to Kenny.  He didn’t even tell him that he was his first.  It didn’t seem like his right to know.  Craig knew Kenny had had some kind of experience, but he never asked with whom.

“I didn’t even know Kenny liked dudes,” Clyde said.

Craig sat down on the coffee table.  “Believe me, no one’s more surprised than I am.”

“So what happens when summer’s over?” Token asked.

Craig shrugged.  “Nothing.  We both leave.”

 

**July 2001**

Kenny held the phone to his ear and listened as the line rang seven times before going silent.  He sighed and placed the receiver back on the hook.  It was the same thing every time he tried to call.  He wondered if Stan had told his mother to give him a fake number.  He wondered if this was how Kyle had felt last summer, when Stan suddenly ditched him for Kenny.

He picked the phone back up and dialed a different number.  It rang twice.

“ _Hello_?” a deep voice answered.

“Hey, you want to come over?”

There was a brief pause followed by, “ _Sure_.”

The front door swung open and Kenny’s sister trudged in, her ratty backpack slung over her shoulder.

“Great, I’ll see you soon,” Kenny said, hanging up abruptly.

He watched Karen as she slumped down on the couch, looking defeated.

“You’re home.”

Karen rolled her eyes as if to say, “What was your first clue?”

“You need to stop running away,” he said.

“What, so I’m the only one in this family who’s not allowed to leave?”

Kenny sighed.  He knew his sister was resentful of him leaving for college in the fall.  This year had been hard on her, and her acting out had only gotten worse when he’d announced that he’d gotten into a college out of state.  He moved to the spot beside her on the couch.

“You know Mom worries every time you disappear.”

Karen stared at her lap in shame.  “I know.”

“And it’s only gonna get worse without me here to calm her down.”

“It’s not fair,” Karen said pitifully.  “First Kevin leaves, then Dad, and now you.”

“I’m sorry.”

 “I didn’t find him.”

Kenny put a comforting arm around her shoulders.  “He doesn’t want to be found,” he replied.  “For all we know, he has a new family now.  Or he’s huddled up in a crack den somewhere.”

“He missed your graduation,” Karen said sadly.

Kenny shrugged.  “He was never really present anyways.”

Karen rested her head on her brother’s shoulder.  “Who was that on the phone?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Oh, I forgot,” Kenny replied.  “Craig’s coming over.”

“Ew, are you guys gonna do it?  Should I have waited another day to come home?”

He’d told Karen only recently that he was gay.  His brother was the first person he told, just before he left for boot camp.  He’d told his mother soon afterwards.

He’d never told his dad, but Kenny assumed that he knew.  He assumed it was the reason he left.

 

**August 2001**

“Is this really all you’re bringing with you to college?”

“It’s all I have.”

Craig stared down at the rolled-up comforter, duffel bag and backpack on Kenny’s floor.  “God, dude, you’re poor as fuck.”

Kenny shrugged, sweeping back his bangs.  Kenny’s hair grew like a weed, Craig observed.  It had grown at least two inches since graduation.  Craig thought the long hair suited him.  Messy and uninhibited, just like Kenny.

“It sucks that you’re leaving.”

Craig had always known that Kenny would be leaving for college, but he couldn’t help being sad in spite of himself.  After three months of whatever this was, he felt comfortable with Kenny, something that wasn’t common for Craig.

“You’re leaving too,” Kenny pointed out.

“In a month.”

“You think you’ll fuck a lot of guys in the Army?” Kenny asked.  Kenny always talked about casual sex with multiple guys like it was the ultimate dream.  Craig wasn’t sure what the ultimate dream was, but it wasn’t that.

“The Marines, and no,” he replied simply.

“I’m gonna fuck a lot of guys at college,” Kenny said.  “I’m gonna turn the whole football team.”

Craig was pretty sure that was a joke, but he couldn’t be sure.  “It’s important to have dreams,” he said.  He realized he didn’t even know what Kenny was going to college for.

Kenny grinned and leaned in for a kiss.  Craig kissed him back, let him push him down onto the bare mattress.  It occurred to him that this might be the last time he ever saw Kenny.

“Kenny!” Karen called from outside his room.  “Butters is here!”

“Shit,” Kenny whispered, pulling back.  “I have to go.”

Craig grabbed him by the collar.

“What?” Kenny asked, staring down at him.

Craig swallowed.  “Nothing,” he said, letting go.

 

**September 2001**

“Are you sure you have to go?”

“No, I’m sure the United States Marine Corps would be totally understanding if I just don’t show up for basic training.”

“God, Craig, do you have to be so goddamn sarcastic all the time?” Clyde snapped, turning the steering wheel so sharply that Craig had to grab the headrest of his seat to steady himself.  “Can I just be upset that my best friend is leaving me?”

“Okay, sorry, you can be sad,” Craig agreed.

“And buckle up, I’ve asked you twice already.”

Craig reached for his seat belt silently and snapped it into place.

“Thank you,” Clyde told him crossly, slowing down as they approached an intersection.

Craig needed a cigarette, but he wasn’t about to ask Clyde if he could smoke in his car.  Not when he was in one of his moods.  Clyde was taking Craig’s joining the military personally, as if he’d done it just to get away from him.

“I’m gonna miss you too, you know,” Craig said, as they stopped at a red light.  “Like, more than anyone else.”

Clyde pouted.  “I know.”

“Don’t tell Token.”

Clyde nodded, but didn’t say anything.  The light turned green and they began to move again.

“Thanks for driving me.”

“I’m not gonna pretend to be happy about it.”

“You don’t have to.  Just thanks anyways.”

Clyde glanced over at him, his face soft at first, but quickly contorting into a horrified expression.  Then came the noise.  The screeching of tires, Clyde’s sickening scream, and a crash like nothing Craig had ever heard.  There was a pain in his chest like his ribs were caving in, then his head collided with the passenger side window, and everything went black.


	2. Here is Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “And I want to get free  
> Talk to me  
> I can feel you falling  
> And I want to be  
> All you need  
> Somehow here is gone.”
> 
> -The Goo Goo Dolls, 2002

**September 2001**

Craig was swimming, but the water was thick and sticky, like a river of syrup.  The world around him made sense, but was moving too quickly for his liking.  He wanted to shut it out.  He wanted to stay in place.

“How are you?” Token asked.  “Do you feel any pain?”

“I don’t feel anything,” Craig responded.  The words were difficult to get out, like his tongue was bloated.

“That would be the morphine drip.”

He’d heard what the doctor told him when he woke up.  Four broken ribs.  Swelling in the brain.  Medically induced coma.  They meant nothing to him without the pain that was supposed to accompany.  Craig didn’t feel like he’d almost died.  He felt like he was never alive.  _This_ , Craig thought, _is what heaven feels like_.

“Clyde went back to work today.  He can’t type with his broken wrist, but they’re still letting him take calls.”

Craig wished Token would stop talking.

“I called your recruiter,” he went on.  “With a serious head injury, it might be a long time before you’re eligible to enlist again.  You might want to start considering different paths.  I mean, after you recover.”

Craig closed his eyes.  Maybe if he pretended to sleep, Token would go away.  Craig did not want to think about his future, if he even had one.  He just wanted to float.

 

**October 2001**

“How gay do I look in this?” Kenny asked, tugging at his new denim jacket.  He was two weeks into his new server job at Applebees, and the jacket was his first purchase he’d made with his tip money.  It was also the first brand new piece of clothing he’d ever owned.  It was a dark, unfaded blue with elaborate gold stitching, and putting it on made Kenny feel rich.

“Tremendously gay.  Like a connoisseur of penis,” Butters replied.

“So you’re saying I should bedazzle it.”

The two were walking across campus from the cafeteria to their dorm.  Kenny had latched onto Butters from the day they moved into their cramped dorm room.  He hadn’t meant to, but he found it too difficult to relate to new people.  He was torn between his desire to be out and proud in college and his natural instinct to hide from everyone.  As a result, he came across as hard and unapproachable.  With Butters though, he just clicked.  He wondered if Butters felt burdened, being Kenny’s only friend.

Butters had no trouble making new friends in college.  It didn’t surprise Kenny.  Butters had an ease about him that drew people in.  He went by “Leo” now, which threw Kenny off every time he heard it.  He would always be “Butters” to Kenny.

“You know, we have a campus pride group here,” Butters said.  “You should join.  It might get you out of your shell a little bit.”

“Will you join with me?”

He knew Butters wasn’t gay.  In fact, he’d revealed to Kenny in extreme confidence that he wasn’t sexually attracted to anyone.  Kenny couldn’t imagine not wanting sex.  He felt like the only time he could fully express himself was during sex.

“Quinton from my physics class is in the club.  I think you two would get along.”

This wasn’t the first he’d heard of Quinton from physics.  He was sure the next step would be frequent physics study sessions in their dorm room when Kenny happened to be around.  Kenny was familiar with the concept of a set up, and he was not interested in being fixed up with his roommate’s Other Gay Friend.  As far as he was concerned, Butters could have Quinton from physics.

“Butters, I’m not your pet project.”

“This is not a setup, Kenny.  I just want you to be friends with my friends.”

Kenny rolled his eyes, because of course this was a setup.  He wasn’t an idiot.  He chose not to argue, however, and instead made eyes at a tall brunette in a letter jacket who happened to be walking by.  The guy looked Kenny up and down, a hint of a smirk on his lips.

“Nice jacket, faggot,” he said, intentionally bumping Kenny’s shoulder as he passed him.

“See, Ken?  That guy liked your new jacket.”

 

**December 2001**

“Your x-rays look good, Craig.  I’m seeing the kind of improvement I was hoping to see.”

“Then why aren’t the headaches getting any better?”

“It’s not unusual to have regular headaches for months, even years after a traumatic head injury.  What I’d really like now is less dependency on the prescriptions and focus on more long-term pain management.”

Craig pressed the ball of his hand against his right temple.  “Is that your way of telling me you won’t prescribe any more pain killers?”

“I’m going to give you a pamphlet.  It highlights some very effective relaxation techniques.  I would also recommend you track your sleeping habits.  Get yourself back into a regular exercise routine.  And if you can, cut out nicotine and alcohol.”

Craig didn’t feel like informing Dr. Gouache that he would be doing none of those things.

“I’m going to write you a prescription for a lower dosage,” Dr. Gouache said, scribbling on his prescription pad.  “And I want you to take it only when you really need it.  When Tylenol and ibuprofen don’t work.”

Craig let the ringing in his ears drown out the doctor’s voice.  He continued to zone out as the nurse walked him to the lobby and as the receptionist stamped his prescription and as he stepped out into the cold winter air to wait for his ride.  He reached into his jeans pocket for his cigarettes and prescription bottle.  He shook the bottle and heard one lone pill rattling inside.  He lit a cigarette with shaky hands before fumbling with the child-resistant lid of the pill bottle.  When he finally popped off the top and turned the bottle over the tiny white pill rolled across the groove of his palm before slipping off and falling into the white snow at his feet

“Fuck,” Craig muttered, dropping to his knees and sifting fruitlessly through the wet snow.  The lit cigarette fell from his lips.  “Fuck fuck fuck.”

“Hey man, you need a hand?” someone asked, kneeling down beside him.

“It was my last one,” Craig mumbled.

“What kind was it?” the stranger asked.

He turned to look at the stranger and found a dark, handsome man with high cheekbones.  He’d noticed him before in the lobby, when he was waiting to see his doctor.  Craig suddenly became aware of how homeless he looked.  He hadn’t shaved since the accident, and his hair had grown in all patchy and uneven from where they’d shaved it for his surgery.  And to top it all off, he was on this hands and knees in the snow looking for an oxy.

“Found it,” the stranger said, brushing a loose piece of gravel off the wet pill.

“Thanks,” Craig muttered, slipping the pill back into the bottle.  He felt uncomfortable popping a pill off the ground in front of a handsome stranger.

“I’m Tyson,” the stranger introduced himself, helping Craig to his feet.

“Craig,” Craig replied.

“Well Craig,” Tyson said, “if you need help getting more of those pills, I can give you the number for my guy.”

“Your guy,” Craig said flatly, pulling out his cigarettes.

“Or my number,” Tyson said.  “If that makes you more comfortable.”

“I’m not an addict,” Craig replied, lighting a new cigarette.  He blew out a puff of smoke.  “I’m in pain.”

“We’re all in pain,” Tyson replied, grabbing the pack of cigarettes from Craig’s hand and producing a Sharpie from his jacket pocket.  “Here,” he said, scribbling something on the back of the cigarette pack and placing it back into Craig’s open hand.  “That’s my number.  Call me when the pain gets to be too much.”

* * *

 

“Hey guys,” Kenny greeted his friends, shoving his hands into the pockets of his apron.  “What are you doing here?”

“Celebrating,” Butters replied, opening his menu.  “Quinton and I just finished our physics final, which means the semester is officially over for us.  We’re gonna take you out when your shift is over.”

“Sounds fun.  Where are we going?”

Quinton was cute enough, Kenny thought, if you were into nerdy guys.  They’d hung out a few times since the start of the semester, but only with Butters present.  Kenny had thwarted all of Butters’s attempts to get them alone together.

“You have a fake ID?” Quinton asked.

“Better,” Kenny replied, reaching into his back pocket for this wallet.  He produced a Colorado driver’s license and handed it over.

“Kevin McCormick,” Quinton read aloud.  “Is this your brother?”

“I stole it from him the last time he was home,” Kenny related proudly.  “He thought he lost it and had it replaced.

Quinton held up the driver’s license in front of Kenny’s face to compare.  “It’s a good likeness.  If you shaved your head, this could be you.”

Kenny ran a hand through his blond locks.  It was almost long enough to put into a ponytail now.  “Never.”

“Hey, goldilocks,” a patron called from a few tables down.  “If you’re done chatting with your boyfriend, do you think we can get our check now?”

The guy’s girlfriend covered her face in shame.

Kenny held back an eyeroll.  “I’ll be right with you.”

Butter’s eyed the diner, concerned.  “Isn’t that the guy who’s been harassing you all semester?” he asked.

Quinton turned around in his seat to get a look at the guy.  “I know him.  He’s in my astronomy class,” he said.  “He gives me shit too.”

“His name is Dane,” Kenny said, pulling his notepad out of his apron pocket.  “Don’t worry, I can handle him.  What do you guys want to drink?”

“Ice tea,” Butters said.

“Make that two.”

Kenny nodded and headed to Dane’s table, dropping off the plastic folder with their bill.

“About time,” Dane muttered.

“ _I’m so sorry_ ,” his girlfriend mouthed, embarrassment written across her face.

Kenny shrugged apathetically before disappearing to the drink station.

By the time he returned with his friends’ drinks, Dane’s table was abandoned, a pile of cash sitting atop the plastic folder.  Kenny stopped by the table, shifting both glasses of ice tea to one hand so he could pick up the cash.  Underneath the money was Dane’s receipt, with a hasty note scrawled across the top.  _Come over tonight. 9:00._

Kenny pocketed the cash and the receipt before making his way back to his friends’ table.

“Bad news, guys,” he said, placing their drinks in front of them.  “We had some call-ins and I’m stuck closing tonight.  You guys will have to go out without me.”

 

**February 2002**

When Craig poked his head into the hospital room, Clyde was sitting beside the bed scraping the last trace of pudding from an empty cup and Token was stretched out on the bed in a flimsy hospital gown.  Craig’s head throbbed, his stomach turned and his whole body ached, but he forced a smile.

“Hey, buddy,” he greeted, slipping into the room.

“Craig Tucker,” Token said, seeming genuinely surprised to see him.  “Does one of us have to be in the hospital for you to talk to me?  I don’t have another appendix to remove, you know.”

The last time Craig had spoken to Token was in September, the day he’d been released from the hospital after the accident.

“Don’t take it personally,” Clyde said, tossing his empty pudding cup into the trash.  “He wouldn’t talk to me either if I didn’t go to his house every weekend.”

“Clyde forces his friendship on me,” Craig agreed, pulling another chair over to Token’s bedside.

“How are you, Craig?” Token asked, his tone turning to concern.

“Me?  You’re the one in the hospital.”

“I’m serious.  Clyde says you’ve seemed out of it lately.”

Craig glared at Clyde, who shrugged.  “You’ve been kind of spacy.  Like you’re not hearing anything I say to you.”

“I’m fine,” Craig insisted.  “I get headaches and I’ve had some memory problems.  But the doctor said that was expected.”

“You know, no one ever really told me what happened,” Token said.  “In the accident.”

Craig pressed a hand against his aching temple.  “You’d have to ask Clyde.”

Clyde shrunk back in his seat.

“You don’t remember?” Token asked.

“I remember getting in the car.  I remember Clyde was mad at me.  That’s it.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Clyde asked.

“Yeah,” Craig agreed, looking at Token.  “We’re here to see you.  How are you feeling?”

Token shrugged.  “I mean, I’ve been better.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Not right now.”

“Yeah?” Craig leaned forward in his seat.  “What did they put you on?”

“Um, I don’t know.”  Token stared at Craig nervously.  “And antibiotic and a pain killer.”

Sensing Token’s discomfort, Craig sat back nonchalantly.

“So, uh, how’s college?”

Token groaned.  “Don’t talk to me about school.  I’m so behind.  I don’t even want to think about it.”

Craig felt a sharp pain in his stomach and winced.

“Are you okay?” Clyde asked.

“Yeah,” Craig said, holding his stomach.  “Just a little nauseous.  I think I should head home, actually.”

Token frowned.  “Well, don’t make me get another organ removed before you talk to me again.”

“I promise,” Craig said, standing.  “I’ll come see you again before you go back to school.”

* * *

 

Kenny felt like he knew people best during sex.  He’d met Dane during an unfortunate homophobic encounter on the quad.  But he didn’t _know_ Dane until he knew the feeling of Dane’s stubble scratching his neck, the sound of Dane’s moans in his ears, the weight of Dane’s body on top of his.  He knew things about Dane that no one else did.  Not his family.  Not his friends.  Certainly not his girlfriend.

Dane tugged on Kenny’s long hair and Kenny groaned in response.  Dane liked to feel in control, and Kenny let him have that.  The lofted bed squeaked as it rocked back and forth.

“You like that?” Dane whispered.

Kenny didn’t like Dane’s dirty talk.  It was forced, and more distracting than sexy.  It brought him out of the moment.  But since he wasn’t the type to object to anything during sex, Kenny said nothing.

He wouldn’t have had a chance to regardless, because before he could open his mouth to say anything, the dorm room door swung open and Butters walked in, followed close behind by Quinton.

“Jesus fuck!” Dane cried, scrambling to cover himself.

Butters spun around, covering his eyes with his hand, and Quinton just gaped at them, paralyzed.  Kenny pulled on his shirt.

“Did you know your roommate was coming back?”

“No!” Kenny replied indignantly.  In fact, he hadn’t known when Butters would be returning to their room, though he couldn’t deny that the possibility excited him.

Dane dressed rapidly before climbing off the bed and grabbing his messenger bag off Kenny’s desk.  “You tell anyone about this,” he warned, pointing a menacing finger at Quinton, “you die.”

He rushed out of the room, slamming the door behind him, and Quinton finally exhaled.  “I should go too,” he said quietly.

“You don’t have to,” Butters said, dropping his hand to his side.

“I want to,” Quinton insisted, backing towards the door.

A few seconds later, the two roommates were alone in their dorm room.  Butters looked up at Kenny reproachfully.

“What?” Kenny asked, pulling on his pants.  “I’ll put a sock on the door next time.”

“Dane?” Butters replied.  “That guy’s done nothing but harass you all year.”

Kenny climbed over the ledge of the bed.  “I think we both know at this point that that’s not _all_ he’s done to me.”

“Kenny.”

“Don’t do this, Butters, okay?  I can decide who I date.”

“You’re not _dating_ Dane.  He has a girlfriend.”

Kenny rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, I’m much better off with someone like Quinton.”

“What’s wrong with Quinton?”

“Nothing.  Nothing is wrong with Quinton.”

Butters’s eyes widened.  “That’s the problem, isn’t it?  There’s nothing wrong with Quinton.  He’s too put-together for you.  You prefer self-loathing closet cases.”

“I prefer for you to stay out of my business.”

“Then maybe you should keep your business out of our shared dorm room.”

“Fine,” Kenny replied, pulling on his denim jacket.  “I’ll just take my business to Dane’s dorm room.”

* * *

 

Craig was sprawled across his twin size bed, blinking drowsily at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling, when Token burst in, fists clenched.

“Where are they?” he demanded.

Craig turned to him lethargically.  “Where are what?”

“My meds, Craig.  I know you took them.”

Craig closed his eyes.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do you think I’m dumb, Craig?”  He heard Token pulling open drawers and rummaging around.  “You visit me in the hospital asking me about my meds and a week later they turn up missing?  How many are you on right now?”

Craig heard Token’s ranting, but couldn’t be bothered to listen.  He took a deep breath, humming softly as he exhaled.

“Wake the fuck up.”

Craig opened his eyes, staring up at his friend.  Token was shaking an orange pill bottle in front of him.

“Black, comma, Token,” he read from the label.  “What is this?”

Craig shrugged.  “Percocet?”

Token sighed, sitting down on the edge of Craig’s bed.  “You’re different.  You’ve been different since the accident.”

Craig stared at him blankly.  “Yeah, Token.  I’m brain damaged.”

Token shook his head.  “No, I mean, you’re not Craig.”

“Then who am I?”

“Craig died in that car accident.”  Token looked him up and down in disgust.  “I don’t know who you are.”

 

**March 2002**

Kenny leaned back on the orange plastic sofa of the student union, Butters’s heavy biochemisty text book across his lap.  “Which of the following molecules is not a product of the citric acid cycle,” he read aloud.  “Pyruvate, carbon dioxide…”  He glanced up, trailing off as he noticed Butter’s staring distantly across the room.

“Butters!”

Butters jumped.  “What?”

“This midterm is tomorrow, no?”

“Yeah,” Butters replied.  “Just…”  His gaze returned to where he’d been staring before.  “Isn’t that Molly?”

“Who’s Molly?” Kenny asked absently, searching the back of the text book for the practice test answer page.

“Dane’s girlfriend.”

“Oh, her,” Kenny replied, turning in his seat to meet Butters’s gaze.  “What about her?”

He spotted Dane’s girlfriend at a round table with a group of her friends, holding up her left hand as the other women gushed over a simple silver band on her ring finger.

“I think she just got engaged.”

“Oh,” he said, turning his attention back to Butters’s textbook.  “Ok.”

“Did you know that was gonna happen?”

Kenny shrugged.  “Dane doesn’t talk to be about his girlfriend.”

“Does this mean it’s over between you and him.”

Kenny shrugged again.  “I don’t know.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?” Butter’s asked.

“Why would it?” Kenny replied simply.

Butters just stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Citric acid cycle,” Kenny said, tapping on the open text book.

“Sorry, um,” Butters licked his lips.  “Read the question again?”

* * *

 

“If you two just talk, I’m sure you can work things out with Token.”

“I don’t want to work things out with Token,” Craig snapped, tossing a hooded sweatshirt to the floor.  He was hunched over his laundry basket picking items out one by one and digging through the pockets.

“What are you looking for?  I can help.”

“I don’t need help,” Craig replied, pulling out the pockets on a pair of faded blue jeans.

Clyde knelt down beside him.  “Craig, are you okay?”

Craig glared.  “Obviously not.”

“You’re shaking.”

Craig looked down at his hands.  They trembled uncontrollably.  He pressed them against his thighs to steady them.

“Craig, what happened to you?”

“You tell me.”

Clyde cocked his head.  “What?”

“I’m serious,” Craig said, standing shakily.  “Please, tell me what happened, because I can’t remember.”

“You mean the accident?”

“Yeah, Clyde.  You asked what happened to me.  Did you mean some other life-altering event?  How many traumatic events did my brain decide not to form any memories of?”

“I can’t talk about the accident, Craig,” Clyde said quietly.

Craig rolled his eyes.  “Of course you can’t.  That accident ruined your life.  You had to take four sick days at your bourgeois office job and had to type with one hand for a month.  Your wrist probably throbs a little bit every time a cold front comes in.”

“Craig…”

Craig shook his head, walking to his bedroom door.  Clyde followed him out of the room.

“Are you mad at me for not being _more_ injured?”

“No Clyde,” Craig replied.  He spotted his coat draped over a dining room chair and walked toward it.  “I’m mad because all of my plans were ripped away from me in one instant, and I wasn’t even there for it.”

“Well I wish I could forget it!  You don’t understand how it feels to see your best friend…” Clyde’s voice trembled.  “You looked… I thought you were dead.”

“I was,” Craig replied, plunging his hand into his coat pocket.  “I am.”

“What?”

Craig pulled out a crumpled cigarette package.  “I want you to leave,” he said.

“What?” Clyde repeated.

“Get out.”

Clyde swallowed and nodded before making his way toward the front door.

Craig sat down beside the telephone, picking up the receiver and dialing the number scrawled onto the cigarette box.

It rang twice before a voice answered.  “ _Hello_?”

“Tyson?  This is Craig.  From the clinic.”

“I was wondering when you’d call.”


	3. Unwell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m not crazy, I’m just a little unwell  
> I know right now you can’t tell  
> But stay a while and maybe then you’ll see  
> A different side of me.”
> 
> -Matchbox 20, 2003

 

**June 2002**

“How do you feel?”

Craig closed his eyes.  “I don’t feel anything.  Just the way I like it.”

Tyson blew a puff of smoke into Craig’s face.  “I know for a fact you like to feel _some_ things.”

Tyson was a professional addict.  Craig didn’t know how he did it.  He could manage his doses while still functioning like an adult.  The pills only seemed to bring up his mood.  Tyson was always happy.  Craig was numb at best.

“You talk too much,” he said.

“Less talk, got it.”

Craig felt a hand traveling up his thigh.  He pushed it away.  “Not now, Ty, I’m tired.”

“Tired” meant “too high” but Craig was too proud to admit to that.  He still maintained that he only took the drugs for pain, and admitting he was too high to get it up felt like admitting to having a problem.  Tyson seemed to understand, regardless.

“Smoke?” he offered.

“Yeah,” Craig replied.  He accepted the cigarette and laid his heavy head on Tyson’s bicep as he took a drag.

“How come you never talk about your accident?” Tyson asked.

Craig exhaled slowly.  “Because I don’t remember it.”  He handed the cigarette back.  “How come you never talk about yours?”

Tyson placed the cigarette on his lips. “Mine wasn’t an accident.”

“Were you attacked or something?”

“Mm,” Tyson took a long pull from the cigarette.  “Some guys from my soccer team.  They cornered me in the locker room.  Took a baseball bat to my knees.  Lost my scholarship and had to drop out.”

“I didn’t know you played soccer,” Craig said.  “I didn’t know you went to college.”

Tyson reached across him to press the spent cigarette butt into the ash tray.  “There’s a lot we don’t know about each other.”

“Yeah, well.”  Craig nestled his face in the curve of Tyson’s neck as the other man settled back into the pillows.  “We’ll take care of that.”

 

**September 2002**

Kenny sat on an otherwise empty bench, an open text book ignored on his lap.  He stared across the quad at a student who looked to be older than Kenny, with thick black curls and a soft, clean-shaven face.  He’d spotted the man reading in the same spot on the soft green campus lawn for the past few days and had intentionally positioned himself to be directly in his line of sight when he sat down to read again that afternoon.  They’d only made brief eye contact so far, the other man’s cheeks turning pink when his eyes met Kenny’s.  He’d quickly turned back to his reading after that, and Kenny had the feeling he was purposely avoiding looking at him now.

He flipped the pages of his text book without bothering to look down at it.  He was working up the nerve to talk to the man.  Although he’d come out of his shell considerably since he started college the year before, he still found it difficult to approach complete strangers, and that fact that the man was avoiding his gaze was not reassuring.

“Hey Kenny.”

A pair of hands appeared on the backrest of the bench beside him, and Kenny turned to see Dane standing over his shoulder.

“Dane.”

It was the first time he’d seen Dane all semester.  His hair had gotten lighter over the summer.  Kenny liked it better dark.

“How was your summer?” Dane asked.

Kenny closed his text book.  “Good.  I stayed here in town at Quinton’s parents’ house.  Got this killer tan.”

“Your hair got long,” Dane commented.  “You’ve got this whole Kurt Cobain thing going on.”  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the back of the bench.  “It looks good.”

Kenny smiled amiably.  “How’s wedding planning?”

Dane shrugged.  “Molly’s doing most of the planning.  We’re renting a house off campus and I’ve been spending all my spare time working at the fitness center to make ends meet.”  He walked around the bench, taking a seat beside Kenny.  “Look,” he said.  “I sorry about the way I ended things.”

Kenny rolled his eyes.  “You don’t have to apologize.  I knew you had a girlfriend.”

“Right.  And I don’t want to hurt her.”

“Then don’t.”

“But I didn’t want to hurt you either.”

Kenny laughed.  “You give yourself too much credit.”

Dane furrowed his brow.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I don’t give other people the power to hurt me,” Kenny replied coolly.  “I’m scoping out another guy as we speak.”  He nodded towards the curly-haired man on the grass.

This time it was Dane’s turn to laugh.  “Who, Adam?  Good luck with that.”

Kenny raised an eyebrow.  “Someone’s jealous.”

“He’s in my philosophy class,” Dane replied.  “Trust me, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”

Kenny crossed his arms.  “I like a challenge.”

Dane waved a hand in front of him.  “Go talk to him then.”

Kenny stood up, setting his text book down on the bench.  “Fine, I will.”

He marched across the grass, nerves replaced with determination as he approached Adam.  He shot one last glare at Dane before planting himself on the grass beside the stranger.

“Hi,” he said.  “I’m Kenny.”

Adam looked nervously at Kenny before sliding the gold ribbon bookmark of his book between the open pages.  It was a bible, Kenny realized, and his uneasiness returned.  Kenny did not know anyone who read the Bible by themselves in public.

“Adam,” Adam introduced himself.

Kenny licked his lips nervously.  “I’ve, uh, seen you reading here,” he said.

Adam nodded, closing his bible.  “I try to take some time every day for personal reflection.  It helps me feel closer to God.”

Kenny tucked a lock of hair behind his ear.  “So you’re like, really…spiritual?”  Kenny hated the word “spiritual.”  “Spiritual” was what religious people called themselves to seem less pious.

“Well I want to dedicate my life to God,” Adam replied.  “I’m getting my bachelor’s in philosophy so I can get into divinity school.”

Kenny’s jaw dropped.  “Like, to be a priest?”

Adam nodded.  “That’s right.”

“But you’re gay!” Kenny blurted.

Adam blushed, but he didn’t deny it.  “It is possible to be both.”

Kenny glanced at Dane, who was still sitting on the bench next to Kenny’s abandoned text book, grinning smugly.

* * *

 

Craig woke to the sensation of something warm and moist in his ear.  He swatted clumsily at his head and buried his face deeper into his pillow.

“Craig.”

Tyson’s deep voice sounded distant, like Craig was trapped inside a glass tank.

“Did you lick my ear?” he asked groggily, his voice muffled by his pillow.

“I’ve been trying to wake you up.”  Tyson’s voice slowly became clearer the more he talked, and Craig could now feel his weight on the bed beside him.

Craig flipped onto his back.  The light from his bedroom penetrated his eyelids, making his vision glow pink.  “How did you get in?” he asked, peeking one eye open.

“Your mom let me in.” 

“Do I have an appointment?”

“Mm,” Tyson responded affirmatively.  “We need to get you dressed.  You should shave too.”  He brushed Craig’s cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“Will you do it?” Craig whined.

“I’d be happy to,” Tyson replied, standing.  “But your mom might think it’s weird.  Does she know who I am?”

Craig groaned.  “I forgot about my mom.”

His parents hated that he still lived at home almost as much as he did.  Not that they’d say so, after he’d nearly died in a car accident.  The proudest they’d ever been was when he’d told them he was joining the Marines, and Craig suspected that was only because it meant he’d be self-sufficient and out of the house.  Craig’s near-death experience really cramped their style.

He hoisted himself into a seated position.  “How much time to we have?”

“About forty-five minutes,” Tyson said, tidying Craig’s hair.  “We need to get a move on.”

“I’m sorry you’re stuck driving me.”

It had been a year since his accident, and technically enough time had passed for him to be cleared to drive again.  The truth was, he hadn’t even talked to any of his doctors about being evaluated.  He was terrified of getting behind the wheel.

He knew he was a burden on Tyson.  Not just needing rides, but needing help with everything.  He’d become accustomed to Tyson taking care of him, and he wasn’t sure how long he’d have gotten by without him.

“I don’t mind,” Tyson said.  “It would be easier if you lived with me though.”

He said it so casually that Craig couldn’t gauge how genuinely he meant it.  “Yeah?” he said.

“Yeah.”  Tyson picked up a black T-shirt off the floor, holding it up to inspect it.  “Plus, it would be nice to have you around.”

“Are you…?”

“Yeah,” Tyson said again, tossing Craig the shirt.  “You should move in.”

 

**October 2002**

“ _What would you do if your son was at home_?” Kenny sang, swinging his laundry bag over his shoulder as he made his way down the hall.  “ _Crying all alone on the bedroom floor ‘cause he’s hungry…_ ”  He reached his dorm room and dropped the heavy bag onto the floor in front of his door as he searched for his key.  “ _And the only way to feed his is to sleep with a man for a little bit of money, and his daddy’s gone_.”  He twisted the key in the lock and swung the door open, continuing to sing as he dragged his laundry into his room.  “ _Somewhere smoking rock now, in and out of lockdown, I ain’t got a job now…_ ”

He stopped when he noticed a familiar dark-haired man sitting at his desk.

“Adam!”

Adam smiled meekly.  “You have a nice voice.”

Kenny suddenly became painfully aware that he was wearing his laundry day clothes – a pair of purple flannel Wayne State University pajama bottoms and a too-small South Park High t-shirt that he was pretty sure belonged to Karen.  He shot his roommate a look, but Butters just shrugged.

“I thought we were meeting on the McGregor lawn,” Kenny said.

“It’s pretty cold out,” Adam replied.  “I figured we could move to your common room.”

“Right.  Good.  Let me just change and I’ll meet you out there.”

Adam nodded politely before slipping past him and out of the cramped dorm room.  Kenny let out a heavy sigh and picked up a comb from his night stand, running it through his messy locks.

“Kenny,” Butters said, his voice dripping with judgement.

“What?” Kenny asked, peeling off his t-shirt.

“You’re hanging out with a priest?”

“Future priest,” Kenny corrected, digging through his clean laundry.

“Don’t do it.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t try to fuck a priest.”

“Butters,” Kenny replied, pulling on a clean pair of jeans.  “I would never try to fuck a priest.”

“Don’t try to fuck a _future_ priest.”

Kenny tugged a white t-shirt over his head.  It was fresh from the dryer and made his hair to cling to his face.  He probably needed to invest in some dryer sheets.  “We’re just talking,” he said, pulling his hair back into a stubby ponytail.

“But you like him,” Butters said knowingly.

“Well, yeah, he’s like _extremely_ hot, but I do have self-control.”

“Okay, fine,” Butters relinquished.  “I guess I trust you.”

“I don’t need your approval, but thanks,” Kenny said, heading out the door.

 

**January 2003**

Tyson led Craig by the hand to their dimly lit bathroom.  Craig could feel nothing except for the cold of the linoleum against his bare feet and the warmth of Tyson’s hand.

“Do you have to go to work today?” Craig asked.

“Only if you want to keep the apartment heated,” Tyson replied, letting go of Craig’s hand to turn on the shower.

He turned back and began to undress the other man.  Craig lifted his arms as Tyson pulled his tank-top over his head and stepped robotically out of his boxers after they fell to the floor.  Then Tyson quickly disrobed himself before guiding them both into the hot shower.

It was a small shower, barely big enough to hold the two of them, but Tyson managed to make it work.  He stood behind Craig, gently massaging shampoo into his hair.  Craig let out a contented sigh as Tyson scrubbed his back, then reached around to wash his chest, callused fingers weaving into curly chest hair.  He worked his way down the rest of Craig’s body in the same slow, methodical fashion before finally taking the last few minutes of hot water to wash himself.  Craig turned around to watch him, admiring his thick hands as they lathered up his short black hair.  He closed his eyes, tilting his head back to rinse out the shampoo.

He reached out and placed a hand on Tyson’s neck.  Tyson smiled warmly at him before leaning in for a kiss.

“C’mon,” he said softly, twisting off the faucet.

He stepped out of the shower and grabbed two towels off the rack, wrapping one around Craig’s shoulders before toweling off his own hair.  Craig watched him, his heart full.  He felt nothing, expect for overwhelming affection towards Tyson.

* * *

 

Kenny ran a rack of glasses through the dishwasher.  The Applebee’s kitchen was empty, aside from one cook who was scrubbing the grill.  It was a dead night.  Winter tended to be slow, especially now that the college was on winter break.  That, paired with the five days of snowfall they’d gotten, meant very few customers.

He pushed another rack of dishes through.  He hoped they’d close early tonight.  No customers meant no tips, which meant Kenny wasn’t too keen on sticking around.

“Kenny!” his manager called from the drink station.

“Yeah, Naveed?” Kenny replied, stepping out of the dishwashing station.

“There’s a customer at the bar.”

“Really?” Kenny said, wiping his hands on his apron.

He walked into the dining area and saw a familiar black head of hair buried in a bible.

“Hi Adam,” he said in surprise, slipping behind the bar.

Adam didn’t look up from his Bible.  “Hey Kenny.”

Kenny placed a coaster down on the bar. “You drinking?”

“I don’t drink.”

Kenny laughed.  “Okay, I was raised in the catholic church, so I know for a fact that alcohol is allowed.”

Adam laid his open bible down on the bar.  “It is, but I’m held to higher standards.”

“Because you’re studying to be a priest?” Kenny asked, grabbing a clean glass from the rack.

“Because I’m gay,” Adam responded.

“Right.  That makes sense,” Kenny said, scooping ice into the glass.  “You can drink soda, right?”

“Cherry Dr. Pepper.”

“On it,” Kenny said, adding a pump of grenadine to the glass.  “Are you ordering food?”

“Buffalo wings.  Classic.”

“Naveed!” Kenny called back to the kitchen as he placed Adam’s drink in front of him.  “Order coming back!”

“You didn’t go home for break?” Adam asked, sipping his drink.  “You’re from Colorado, right?”

“Yeah, I just went back for Christmas,” Kenny replied, entering Adam’s order on the monitor.  “There’s not much worth sticking around for in South Park.”

“No boyfriend?”

Kenny laughed.  “No.  You?”

“I’ve never had a boyfriend.”

“Never?”

Adam shrugged.  “I supposed you’ve had a lot.”

Kenny considered this.  “I mean, not technically.”

“Right.”

Kenny leaned against the bar.  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Shoot.”

“Are you a virgin?”

Adam drummed his fingers pensively on the open page of his bible, taking his time answering.  “I’m celibate,” he said finally.

“Is that a requirement, or…?”

“It’s my choice,” Adam cut him off.  “Like I said, I’m held to higher standards.  There are a lot of people who don’t want to see me become a priest.  It’s harder for someone like me.”

Kenny propped up his chin on his hands.  “So why do it?”

Adam pulled the ribbon book mark down on his Bible and flipped it closed.  “Isn’t there anything you feel like you were meant to do?”

Kenny thought about it.  “I really just want to be a dad.  Ever since my sister got too old for me to take care of her, I’ve thought about having a family.”

“Would you let anyone stop you just because you’re gay?”

“Of course not.”

Adam gave him a half-smile.  “I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but this is my calling.  I’m gonna be a priest.”

Kenny nodded.  “I respect that.”

“So it’s my turn to ask a personal question, right?”

Kenny laughed.  “I guess fair’s fair.”

“What’s the real reason you don’t like going home?”

Kenny licked his lips, pushing back off the bar.  “Let me go check on your food.”

 

**June 2003**

“It’s the third building past this one. Four-eleven,” Craig said, as Clyde navigated the parking lot of the apartment complex.

Clyde stared intently at the pavement ahead of him.  It was their first time in a car together since the accident, and Craig wondered if Clyde always drove like he was trying to pass his driving exam, or if it was just because he had Craig in the passenger seat.

“This one here,” Craig said, and Clyde pulled in front of Craig’s building and put the car in park.  He turned off the engine.

“Thanks for the ride,” Craig said awkwardly.

“Is it normal for your boyfriend to forget to pick you up from your appointments?”

“No,” Craig replied, his voice defensive.  “He didn’t answer his phone.  Something probably came up.”

“Or maybe he just showed up to the wrong clinic.  How many different doctors are you seeing?” Clyde asked.

Craig narrowed his eyes. “That’s none of your business.”

“You know it’s illegal to see multiple doctors in order to get double prescriptions.”

“Yeah, thanks for that.”

Craig swung open his door.

“Wait,” Clyde said, unbuckling his seat belt.  “Can I come up?”

Craig paused.  “What?”

“I just…want to see your place.  I haven’t seen it yet.  I haven’t seen _you_ , actually.  In over a year.”

Craig licked his teeth hesitantly.  He didn’t want to invite Clyde up to his apartment.  He tried to be clear-headed for this doctor’s appointments, which also meant sporting a dull headache and being generally irritable.  But Clyde had saved him from having to take the bus, and it seemed rude to turn him away now.

“Yeah, okay,” he said finally.

Clyde followed him up two flights of stairs to his apartment.  Craig fished his key from his pocket and turned it in the doorknob lock.  He turned the knob and pushed, but the door didn’t budge. 

“Bolted,” he sighed, mostly to himself.  If the door was deadbolted shut, Tyson had to be home.  It was too much of a pain to try to turn the deadbolt from the outside.  Craig stuck his key in the deadbolt lock and lifted the door by the knob as he twisted his key.  The bolt shifted with a “thunk.”

“Ty?” he called, swinging the door open.

As soon as he stepped inside he spotted him, sprawled face down on the couch.  Craig’s heart stopped.  “Tyson!” he called, rushing to his side.  He knelt beside the couch and placed a hand on his temple.  His skin was clammy, and Craig could see dried vomit on the corner of his mouth.  “Ty,” he said again.

Tyson grunted and buried his face deeper into the sofa cushion.

“Is he okay?” Clyde asked, standing over Craig.

“He’s sick,” Craig replied.

“Sick,” Clyde repeated incredulously.

“Yes, Clyde, sick,” Craig insisted.  “I’ve never seen him like this.”

“Probably because he’s been taking pain killers for so long it takes a lot more to get him high.”

Craig whipped his head around.  “Is this why you wanted to come in?  To judge my boyfriend?”

Clyde’s shoulders dropped.  “I’m just worried about you, Craig.  So is Token.”

“Token doesn’t give a shit about me.”

“Of course he does.”

Craig shook his head, standing up.  “Thank you for the ride home, Clyde.  I think you should go now.”

 

**July 2003**

Kenny pushed a sticky lock of hair off his forehead.  The humid Nebraska summer was not ideal for long walks, something he hadn’t considered before opting to walk back to Quinton’s house from the afternoon shift at work.  He fanned the collar of his black polo shirt as he cut across the college campus.

He was walking by the quad when he noticed Adam in his usual spot, reading his bible on the campus lawn, his t-shirt damp with sweat.

“Hey!” he called, crossing the lawn toward his friend.

Adam beamed up at him, closing his bible.  “You’re still here?”

“So are you,” Kenny pointed out, sitting beside him.

Adam shrugged.  “Yeah, well, it’s easier not to go home.”

“Tell me about it.”  Adam looked at him expectantly.  Kenny leaned back on the grass.  “I’m not out at home,” he explained.  “I mean, my family knows, but I grew up in this small town where everyone’s in each other’s business, and they’ve all known me since I was a kid.  I guess it’s just easier to start over as whoever I want to be here than to come out to a bunch of people who already think they know me.”  Kenny shook his head.  “Every time I’m back in that town, I go back in the closet.  I feel like a fraud.”

Adam nodded sympathetically.  “I get that, actually.”

“Really?”

Adam ran a thumb absently along the pages of his bible.  “I got caught a few years ago in a compromising position.  With a guy.”

“ _You_?”

“My town is really conservative.  After that, I was kind of ostracized.  But when I came here, nobody knew I was gay.  I got a clean slate.”

“You get to decide the criteria by which people judge you.”

“Exactly.”

“It has to be exhausting though,” Kenny said, sitting up.  “Presenting yourself as this flawless, untouchable person.”

Adam frowned.  “Is that how I come across?”

“Not in a bad way,” Kenny said.  “It’s kind of endearing, actually.  It just makes it kind of hard to relate to you.”

As the words left his mouth, Kenny realized that he _did_ relate to Adam, probably better than anyone he’d met since she started college.  He studied the other man’s face.  His round, curious eyes.  His full lips pursed thoughtfully.  He was still as beautiful as the day Kenny first saw him, reading his bible alone on the quad, but he seemed more human now than before.  Adam studied him in return, his hazel eyes flicking from Kenny’s eyes to his lips.  Kenny swallowed a nervous breath.

Then a fat raindrop hit his cheek, and both men blinked, startled.  Kenny looked at the sky to see the blue beginning to turn gray, and the rain was growing heavier.  It wasn’t uncommon for a Nebraska summer, but it was unexpected nonetheless.

Adam was the first one on his feet, tucking his bible under his arm as he reached down to help Kenny up.  Kenny clutched his Applebee’s apron in one hand, allowing Adam to pull him by the other towards the nearest building.

They arrived at the doors of the student union already soaking wet and stood under the awning of the building to shelter themselves from the rain.  Kenny peeled his wet hair out of his face before taking in the sight of Adam.  He couldn’t help but laugh.  Adam’s normally curly black locks hung straight on his forehead like bad bangs.

“Don’t laugh at me,” Adam said, letting out a chuckle himself.

“I can’t help it!” Kenny cried.  “I’ve never seen you caught off guard before.”

“I can guarantee you don’t look any better,” Adam retorted, sweeping his hair back.

Kenny couldn’t help but stare at the glistening drops running down Adam’s face.  He licked his lips as Adam stared back at him.  “I didn’t say you don’t look good,” he whispered.

Adam opened his mouth to speak, then closed it.

Kenny stepped forward, his breath shaky, and pressed his lips to Adam’s.  Adam returned the kiss, gripping Kenny’s waist as it deepened.

Then, just as quickly as the weather had changed, Adam jerked away.  “What was that?” he asked.

Kenny didn’t respond.  He couldn’t think of an answer that didn’t seem too obvious.

Adam looked down at the ground between them.  He’d dropped his bible there.  The pages were already warped from the rain.  Kenny knelt down to pick it up.

“I told you this is my fresh start,” Adam said.  “I told you I have to be better than other people.  I thought you respected that.”

“I do!” Kenny said, standing up.

“You _don’t_ ,” Adam insisted.  “You just want to get laid.”

“I think you’re overreacting,” Kenny said.  “It was just a kiss.”

“ _To you_ ,” Adam replied, “it was _just a kiss_.”  He snatched the bible out of Kenny’s hands.  “That’s exactly my point.”

He turned and walked back into the rain.  Kenny watched him leave, his head spinning.  He couldn’t process what had just happened, or even what he’d _wanted_ to happen.  He heard a low rumble of thunder and shook his head.  His day was shot now, and he didn’t feel like making it worse by finishing the walk to Quinton’s house in the rain.  He pulled open the door to the student union and stepped inside.

The student fitness center was just inside, behind a glass door with a black security scanner.  He didn’t have his key fob; he’d turned it in when school got out for the summer.  He approached the glass door anyways, banging on the glass with his wet fist.

Dane appeared on the other side of the glass looking confused.  He opened the door.

“Kenny?”

“I got caught in the rain,” Kenny said.  “Can I come in?”

* * *

 

Craig closed his eyes, his body sweaty and sated as Tyson nibbled lazily at his shoulder.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.  “We should order in.”

“Mm,” Tyson hummed softly between love bites.  “What do you want?”

“Your face,” Craig purred.

Tyson laughed.  “How about pizza?”

“With sausage,” Craig agreed.  “And olives and mushrooms.”

“I’ll order,” Tyson said, giving Craig a quick peck on the lips before sitting up in bed to reach for his phone.

“Wait!” Craig interrupted, grabbing Tyson by the arm and pulling him back down.

Tyson laughed.  “What?” he said, planting his hands over Craig’s shoulders, hovering inches above him.

“One more,” Craig murmured.

Tyson dipped down to plant another soft kiss on Craig’s lips.  Craig sighed contentedly as Tyson pulled away.  He opened his eyes to see Tyson’s own staring back at him, brown and warm.  He’d never thought of brown eyes as beautiful until he met Tyson.

“Marry me,” Tyson said suddenly.

Craig grinned.  “Fuck off.”

“No, I’m serious.  I want to marry you.”

“With like a wedding?  With tuxedos and flowers and our moms crying?”

“Yeah, all of it.  I want it with you.”

Craig laughed.  “Why?”

“Because I love you.”  Tyson grabbed his hand and squeezed.  “You don’t have to answer right now.  Think about it.”

Craig watched him as he sat up and grabbed his phone and the stack of take-out menus off the nightstand.  He stood up as he dialed. 

“Hi, I’d like to order a large pan pizza.”  Tyson paced around the room as he ordered.  “Sausage and olives, with mushrooms on half.  Yeah, I’m at 411 Juniper Drive, apartment 212.  Yes.  Thanks, bye.” 

He set his phone back down and turned to face Craig.  “Twenty minutes.”

Craig stared up at him, taking him in.

“You okay?” Tyson asked.

“Let’s do it,” Craig replied.

“What?”

Craig smiled.  “Let’s get married.”

 

**May 2016**

The glowing red numbers of the alarm clock read “3:21” when a stirring from the right side of bed woke Kenny from his sleep.  He yawned, rolling over to face his husband.

“You okay?” he whispered, slipping an arm around Craig’s waist.

“Can’t sleep,” Craig replied.

“Nightmares?”

When they’d first moved in together, Craig had been plagued with nightmares nearly every night.  These days, though, they were rare.

“Yeah.”

Kenny placed a soft kiss on Craig’s shoulder blade.  “Need to de-stress?”

“Not now.”

Kenny tucked his head into the back of Craig’s neck.  “You’re worried about the adoption.”

“Not worried.  Amber loved us.”

“Of course she loved us.  We’re delightful.”

Craig shifted to face Kenny.  “I just don’t feel right about lying to her.”

Kenny licked his lips.  “We didn’t lie.  We just…represented the people we are today.”

“People who lie.”

Kenny groaned, flopping down on his back.  “Don’t do this, Craig.  Not the guilt thing.”

Kenny never understood Craig’s self-imposed guilt.  Craig couldn’t accept anything good that happened in their lives, as if he didn’t deserve happiness.  To Kenny, all of that shameful stuff was a lifetime ago.  His fear of commitment, his numerous affairs with married men.  As for Craig’s past, hell, he hadn’t even known Craig during his worst years.  It didn’t matter to Kenny that Craig was once engaged to his drug dealer.  All that mattered was that he was married to Kenny now.

“Kenny, she’s a teenage girl who just wants to find someone she can trust to raise her kid.”

“Yeah, that’s us!  We’re great with kids.  And we have a nice house.  We make good money.  Well, _you_ make good money.  I would have killed to live this this as a kid.”

Craig slid his hand into Kenny’s.  “I know.”

“I’m just so sick of being judged based on the people we were fifteen years ago.  I would be such a good dad.”

“I know you would.”

“We both would.”

“You’re right. We’re gonna be great parents and I’m just stressing out over nothing.”

Kenny could tell from his voice that Craig didn’t feel any better.

“Craig…”

“What if we’re not though?  What if _I’m_ not?” Craig choked.

Kenny pulled his husband onto his shoulder and weaved a hand through his hair.  “You take care of people,” he said.  “That’s what I love about you.”

“But I couldn’t…”

“Stop.  That wasn’t your fault.”

Craig sobbed quietly into Kenny’s shoulder, and Kenny stroked his hair softly until he fell asleep.

 

**August 2003**

“Pick up,” Craig whispered, as the phone rang in his ear.

After six rings, he heard a familiar voice.  “ _Hi.  You’ve reached Tyson Shepard.  I can’t come to the phone right now_ …”

Craig flipped his phone shut, irritated.  It was hot out and he could already feel the sun burning the back of his neck.  Tyson should have been there by now.  He opened his phone again and found Clyde’s number.

Clyde picked up after the first ring.

“ _Craig_?”

“Clyde, I’m at Kelley Family Practice.  Can you pick me up?”

“ _Is Tyson too high again_?”

“Clyde.”

There was a pause, then Clyde replied, “ _Yeah.  I’ll be there in ten minutes_.”

“Thanks,” Craig muttered before hanging up.

He sighed, irritated that Tyson was MIA once again.  He flipped his phone back open and dialed their home number.  It was a long shot.  Tyson rarely picked up the home phone.  It was usually only telemarketers that called that number.

To his surprise, somebody picked up right away.

“Hello?” a woman’s voice answered shakily.  Craig didn’t recognize it.

“Hi, um… Is Tyson there?”

“He’s not here.  This is Annette, Tyson’s mother.”

“Oh, uh…” Craig didn’t know what to say.  He’d never met Tyson’s mother.  He wasn’t even sure if she knew about him.  “He didn’t tell me you were coming over,” he said finally.

“You’re Craig,” she breathed.

“You know about me?”

“Of course I do.  Tyson talked about you all the time.”

Craig didn’t even know Tyson talked to his mother that often.  There was still a lot he didn’t know about him.

“Where is Tyson?”

Annette let out a choking noise.

“Mrs. Shepard?”

“He was in an accident,” she whispered.  “The doctor said...cardiac arrest.”

Craig’s breath left his lungs.  “Where is he?” he repeated.  “Is he at the hospital?  Can I see him?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“What?”  Craig’s hands shook.  “What’s going on?”

“He’s gone.”

Craig’s knee’s collapsed under him.  He landed hard on the sidewalk.

“Craig?” Annette said.  “Are you still there?”

“He can’t be dead,” Craig said.  “That’s not possible.  I just saw him and he was fine.  I saw him two hours ago.  We…We’re getting married.”

“I’m sorry,” Annette whispered.

Craig dropped his phone.  He didn’t want to hear her voice anymore.  He didn’t want to hear anything, _feel_ anything.  He just knelt on the sidewalk in front of the clinic.  It was the spot where he’d first met Tyson.  He’d been on his knees in the snow, searching for a pill.  He wished he had one now.  He wished he had a whole bottle, so he’d never have to feel anything again.

 


End file.
